Page 32 of Edge of Stars

“Reg!”

But not before Maximus can help it.

Or not.

I scream his name as he rushes down the steps and catches his mentor by her hand. But he’s left clutching only her gauntlet as the rising rapids seep under her armor, tripling her weight in seconds. I sob out, pleading for him to hold back as he lunges for her again, but the current whips her out of reach—in sad irony, right next to where Sarah is drifting along on her back.

“Maximus! No! Please! You’ll—”

Words aren’t possible past my audible gasp. Then my higher shriek. He probably doesn’t hear either, since the violent waves have pulled him away and then down. I watch in horror, a matching torrent streaming down my face, as they swallow his head with their punishing force.

I whip a frantic stare across the waves, cursing the altar candles for throwing such schizophrenic shadows through the room. But I swear harder at my maddening, daring husband. Much harder.

If you die before we’ve left the church, I will break down every gate of heaven and kill you again myself.

That’s the part I scream at him in my mind.

But the part I really want him to hear are the whispered words on my lips.

“Maximus. Don’t this to me. To her.”

I swipe my free hand across my belly, blinking away furious tears—and helpless heartbreak.

“I need you, Maximus. We need you. Come back to us. Please come back to us.”

CHAPTER TEN

MAXIMUS

How has it come back to this?

Two months ago, I was tossed and turned through the muck of Styx, praying Kara would hear the call of my heart even from those disgusting depths. So determined to find her that I actually saw her in those waters, pulling me forward and willing me to survive.

But back then, I was almost drowning with desperation.

Now, I’m just pissed.

Not only at the queen of the witches, though Hecate’s antics have hopscotched her to the top of my Olympians-who-deserve-a-push cliff. Hermes is up there too, but in a different location. The ledge reserved for the kiss-ass snivelers.

But the summit of my rage is reserved for someone else.

The asshole glaring back at me from the reflections in the tumultuous waters.

He’s absolutely there, all right. Ready and waiting, from the second I find my way back to the tsunami’s surface.

The flood that I caused.

The chaos I’m only stirring up worse, with every passing minute my rage goes unchecked. Like this one now, in which the storm clouds dance overhead in anticipation of more playtime.

Give it up, damn it.

Once I shoot the silent message upwards, I turn back to searching for Reg. The waves have calmed a little, but not enough. Not showing the mercy I need to spot my warrior friend between the swells, shadows, and light tricks across the raging lagoon.

Shit!

It’s all your fault. Your power that brought this tempest and its mire of visibility. Your rage and frustration that’s keeping it here, ass bunch.

It’s the last message I want to hear but the first I have to honor. And heed. If I want the waters to recede, then I have to do it first. I have to get over myself and back down. Surrender. Ease back.